Truly, the immenseness of the Santa Cristina’s treasure was a mindboggling sight to behold. And that wasn’t counting the gold bullion and the silver ingots the Deep Six crew had already cataloged and packed away in straw-lined boxes that were now stacked against the walls of the ship’s engine room.
For the first few hours, when Doc and his former SEAL Team members and current Deep Six Salvage partners had hauled up the gems and coins and artifacts from where Captain Vargas had hidden them, he’d marveled at each new piece of wealth. Like a kid at a banner Christmas, he’d been agog at the glittering hoard.
But as the treasure trove grew, he began to feel an overwhelming sense of surrealism.
Like, how could any of this be real? How could he, Dalton Simmons, a poor kid from Nowhere, Montana, be a one-sixth owner of a lost treasure estimated to be worth nearly a half a billion dollars?
And yet…it was real. The sparkling jewels and precious metals sitting heavily upon the tabletops around him attested to that. Which meant he was officially a millionaire.
Not just a millionaire. A multimillionaire.
Thanks to Cami and her legal wrangling.
Ugh. It rankled to have to admit it. And yet, he heard himself saying dutifully, “Thank you for finding the loophole that allows us to keep all this.” One corner of her mouth hitched up, but it fell into a straight line again when he added, “I just would’ve liked the loophole better if hadn’t meant we had to wait for a king tide smack-dab in the middle of hurricane season.”
She shook her head. “All you had to do was wait for a king tide. The fact that the next one happened to occur in the middle of hurricane season didn’t have anything to do with me. It was bad luck.”
“Not true.” He lifted a finger. “There was a king tide earlier in the year, but we missed it while you were pouring over precedent.”
“Wildly obscure precedent that I would stress, again, is the reason you’re able to keep all this. Now”—she pointed toward the hallway—“you see that door? For the love of god, do me a favor and go find out what’s on the other side of it.”
He felt a chuckle rumbling around in his chest, but he suppressed it with a deep breath. “For the love of god, huh? I thought you told me you weren’t religious.”
“I wasn’t before I met you. But now I’ve taken to getting down on my knees and praying nightly for you to go mute.”
He allowed one corner of his mouth to lift into a languid, flirtatious smile.
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What? What’s that look for?”
“I’m imagining you down on your knees.”
She gasped and left her mouth hanging open long after the sound escaped her lips.
Camilla D’ Angelo gave as good as she got when it came to oral arguments—thanks to all the practice her career provided her, no doubt. But he’d learned he could beat her at her own game when he tossed in a little sexual innuendo. Or rather, not just beat her at her own game, but stop her dead in her tracks.
It was fascinating the way she blinked and sputtered and blushed to the roots of her sleek, black hair when he hinted at anything carnal.
“Oh!” She stomped her foot, annoyed as ever that he’d rendered her momentarily speechless. “You are the most aggravating—”
“Children!” Romeo yelled in exasperation. “I’m trying to count my riches like Scrooge McDuck, and your arguing is ruining the experience for me!”
“Here, here,” Uncle John seconded from his seat at the emerald table. He had a jeweler’s loupe plugged into one eye, making him look like a Borg off Star Trek. Although, his Earnest Hemingway hair and salty seadog beard went a long way toward ruining the sci-fi effect.
Before Doc could respond, the sound of bare feet slapping against the metal decking had him turning toward the computer room’s open door. The remaining four members of the Deep Six crew, all still wearing their wetsuits and leaving wet footprints behind, shuffled into the room.
“Water’s startin’ to kick up out there,” Leo “The Lion” Anderson, their former lieutenant and the current head of their salvage operation, said as he folded a fresh stick of Big Red gum into his mouth. Glancing around the room, he asked in his slow, Southern drawl, “Where’s my wife?”
“In the galley making cupcakes to have for dessert after Bran’s lasagnas,” Cami informed him before turning her attention to Brando “Bran” Pallidino. “By the way, I took the lasagnas out of the oven fifteen minutes ago. Just like you said.”
Bran scrubbed a hand through his dripping, wavy brown hair and nodded his thanks. Before he could say anything, however, a larger than average wave rolled beneath the ship.
“Erp.” Cami lifted a hand to her mouth, her skin paling instantly when the vessel bobbed like a cork. But she was quick to drop her fingers and make a face at Bran as soon as the salvage ship steadied itself. “Sorry. I promise that me nearly losing my cookies has nothing to do with your lasagnas. They look and smell delicious.”
Doc crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a censorious look on her. “You didn’t take that Dramamine pill I gave you, did you?”
“First of all,” she bristled, “you may be a doctor, but you’re not my doctor. And second of all, Dramamine makes me sleepy. I didn’t want to nap my way through all of this.” Again, she threw out an arm to indicate the treasure.
“Has no one ever told you that you are the most stubborn woman to ever pull on a pair of pants?”
“Oh my god!” Her chin jutted out. “You’re calling me stubborn? Ever been told that those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones?”
LT sighed heavily—LT was the nickname everyone used for Leo; it was a nod to his former rank—and asked Romeo, “Have they been at it like this all afternoon?” Before Romeo could reply, LT shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. We got more important things to deal with than the ongoin’ animosity between our attorney and our resident malcontent.”
“Hey!” Doc objected, snatching the toothpick from his mouth. But LT ignored him by turning to Bran and adding, “Go grab everyone and bring ’em here, Brando. We need all hands on deck for this discussion, seein’ as how our decision on what to do next is gonna affect us all.”
LT’s statement had Doc narrowing his eyes. “I take it you weren’t able to finish.”
LT shook his head, causing water droplets to drip from the ends of his sun-streaked hair. “But let’s wait to talk about it ’til we got everyone.”
Doc recognized his former commanding officer’s tone.